


Disarming

by eadunne2



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blades, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Love, M/M, Smart asses, Swearing, Sweet, Tropes, Weapons, comparing Bucky to a kitten, firearms, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7036078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eadunne2/pseuds/eadunne2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Welcome, Muscle Man, Wings, and foreign murderers! Come in!” Their combined eyeroll at Tony unifies them once again and they toe off their shoes, Bucky grumbling, “I’m from Brooklyn, you know”, about to follow the scent of coffee to Tony's kitchen when JARVIS says calmly, “Mr. Barnes, please disarm before proceeding.”</p><p>In which Bucky's confusingly cute and also heavily armed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disarming

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a tumblr post by cosmicwarden.tumblr.com about a weapons trope. Thanks for the idea.
> 
> Only very loosely based on the Avengers Marvelverse and ignores CACW.

It's early, purple-y gold sky outside when Steve raps on his bedroom door. “Buck?”

There's a tiny, grumpy noise followed by what would've been silence to the average ear, but Steve’s super soldier hearing hones in on the way his friend’s breathing evens back out. 

“Come on, man. We gotta go up to Tony's.” 

A small growl. “Your face gotta go up to Tony’s.”

He's glad Buck can't see him grinning and running a hand over his face, just a little overwhelmed. A sleepy James Barnes would be enough to disarm anyone. 

“We have a meeting with Nick, remember?”

There's suspicious stillness and a deep breath, then the crinkle of a sheet being tossed aside. “Gimme five.”

“You've got ten, no worries.”

He hears the incredulous huff, but doesn't call attention to it, opting instead to head to the kitchen for coffee and give Buck a modicum of privacy. He knows how important that is, after everything. The day before Bucky moved in, Steve had gone through and removed all the cameras, all the mics from the apartment, much to both JARVIS and Tony's frustration. After brief, terse words between Steve and Stark (which Buck will never hear about, thank you very much), they’d agreed the tech could stay off. 

He's been slouched at the kitchen table for all of three minutes when there's a featherlight touch on his shoulder as Bucky walks straight past him to the coffee pot. He dumps the remainder from the carafe into an empty jam jar (Steve's long since given up on, “We have mugs, ya know.”) and turns back around to lean against the counter as he takes an enormous gulp of what Steve knows to be scalding coffee. “What?” he finally grunts. 

“N-nothing," Steve stammers. "Not a damn thing.”

Buck looks like a fucking kitten as he scoots along the marbled countertop into a pool of early sun splashing through the curtains. His hair is tucked up into a soft bun at the back of his head but strands are falling already, framing his face. He's wearing boots and jeans and one of Steve's hoodies, worn soft by time, literally snuggling into the neck of it as he sips. There's still black smudging around his eyes from the mission yesterday, just a little, almost like leftover mascara, and maybe that's why it looks like his eyes are dancing at Steve from across the cozy kitchen. A lone injury, a scratch down one cheekbone, sets off something protective and possessive in Steve, and before he's even aware of it he's crossing the room to stand inches from his friend. 

“What?” Bucky repeats, softer this time, and Steve doesn't know what to do but tuck one rogue twist of hair behind Buck’s ear, making his breath catch beautifully. 

“You look…” He pauses and Bucky blinks slowly, sleepily up at him. Infinite sweetness, infinite patience. “Wonderful.”

One edge of Buck’s mouth twitches up. “Wonderful, huh?”

Steve nods, not trusting his voice. 

“Well. Thank you.” Is he blushing? Do assassins blush? Does James Barnes? (Beautifully, Steve remembers. Never for any of the dames he brought home, but when Steve complimented the way he cleaned up on Sundays or when Steve would dash from the bathroom to their bedroom, stark naked, having forgotten his clothes. Oh yes. Bucky blushes.) “We should get to this stupid fucking meeting.” 

Steve steps back, chuckling. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Shit man,” Buck grumps. “I don't trust any of those motherfuckers.” 

That twists at Steve's chest a little. He's one of ‘those motherfuckers’ whether he likes it or not, and the comment eats at him the whole elevator ride, easing when Buck sways into him sleepily, bumping their shoulders together. 

“Buckaroo!” Sam grins widely as they step out of the sliding doors. 

“Sam I Am,” Bucky greets cheerfully. “You look like shit.” 

“No, I look delightfully rumpled.”

“You do not. But James does.” Nat rises on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Also, you're gonna have to get rid of those before the meeting.”

“Rid of what?” Steve mutters, wishing it had been his mouth on Bucky's skin. Right above that fucking cut.

Nat shakes her head and Buck glares at her while Sam knocks. 

“Welcome, Muscle Man, Wings, and foreign murderers! Come in!” The combined eyeroll at Tony unifies them once again, and they toe off their shoes, Bucky grumbling, “I’m from Brooklyn, you know”, about to follow the scent of coffee to Tony's kitchen when JARVIS says calmly, “Mr. Barnes, please disarm before proceeding.” 

Nat throws him a ‘told ya so’ and he sticks his tongue out at her, griping, “Yeah, yeah,” as he pulls a small handgun from his waistband and sets in on the entryway table. Steve watches him pause for a moment before pulling a switchblade from the opposite pocket. “Fine. There.”

Steve tries not to show the surprise on his face. Buck really must not trust any of them if he’s coming armed to a fucking breakfast meeting. He tries out a smile as Buck steps around him towards the main room, but doesn't get a single inch further before JARVIS intones, “Mr. Barnes…”

“Jeez, alright. Christ.” He continues with mumbled profanities as he untucks yet another firearm, a smaller pistol, from the back of his jeans. 

Sam looks impressed as Bucky pulls a taser from a back pocket. “Shit, man.”

Nat impatiently taps her toe.

“Really Buck?” Steve says with a low laugh, but apparently he's not done. Bucky tugs a blade from his sleeve, another magnetized to the metal prosthetic, and one from his boot, which he under hands onto the growing pile. Another pace forward and this time JARVIS sounds irritated, “Mr. Barnes!”

“Fine, fine.” He doesn’t sound upset about it though, in fact, his tone reads as vaguely amused. He pulls a fucking Glock 42 from the pocket of Steve’s hoodie, another knife from his other boot, and even Natasha looks incredulous as he scuffs his shoe once against the floor and watches as a small blade pops from the toe. He snaps it off easily with his metal hand, tosses it to the table, and gestures around. “Better?" Then, "What?”

Steve, Nat, and Sam are all blinking open-mouthed between the sweetly drowsy man standing in a faded hoodie, and the pile of weaponry he’d had concealed on his person. 

“You…” Sam tries. “That...what?”

“The magnet was a good idea,” Natasha adds. “Very nice.”

“Really Mr. Barnes. Just because Rogers threatened Mr. Stark into _breaking building code_ to ensure your privacy doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t know you’re packing.”

“What?” Bucky blurts at the same time Steve retorts, “Ok, threatens is a bit of a strong word.”

“Wings? Red? Come have some coffee with us.” Tony interrupts, standing at the entrance of the hallway, hands in pockets, watching Steve and Bucky carefully. “And JARVIS, thank you for enforcing house rules but... Leave them alone for now.”

“Yes, sir,” JARVIS murmurs, and his voice disappears, following Nat and Sam out into the living room, leaving Steve and Buck very much alone.

“Stevie…” Buck starts, but Steve cuts him off. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry he said anything and I’m sorry you found out and I’m sorry you didn’t feel safe coming to this meeting…”

“Stevie, I knew.”

Steve freezes. “What?”

Buck moves closer, sending goosebumps across Steve’s skin. “When I swept the apartment there were still a few attachments, mostly to where the mics had been. They were newly removed, surrounded by but not filled with dust. I figured it was you, and I love ya for it.” What a painful turn of phrase. “And I did feel safe coming here today. With you.” 

“Then why the armory in your clothes?”

Bucky shrugs. “I was curious the extent of Tony’s tech. There might be a time when I need to get something in, or out. I wasn’t scared. I can take care of myself. And I trust you. To look out for me.”

“Oh,” Steve says, and wonders absently why his throat aches, all the way up until Bucky brushes a tear from his cheek. “Back at ya, Buck.”

The returning smile is brilliant and relieved, as if Bucky perhaps doubted Steve’s ability to believe in him. Ridiculous. Even more ridiculous though, is the way Bucky leans in and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “I know you worry you’re one of them now, but you were mine first.”

_MIne first._

“Yeah.” The word rushes out on air. “I am," and this time he’s the first to move, surging in and kissing Bucky hard enough that they stumble a bit but neither of them notice. Buck’s warm and soft and tastes of coffee and Steve runs his hand up strong pecs covered in soft fabric into silky hair, about to tangle his fingers into it when Buck stops him. 

“Oh. Wait.” 

From behind the rubber band holding his hair back he plucks a small wooden knife and throws it with perfect accuracy onto the pile without even looking. 

Steve starts laughing, and cannot stop. “Fuck, I love you, Bucky Barnes.”

It terrifies him into rigidity as he hears the words leave his mouth, but Buck just leans back in, snaking his arms around Steve’s waist. 

“Love you too, punk. Breakfast?”

“Yeah," he murmurs, relieved in a way he's never been before, free from an omnipresent weight kissed away by a smartass assassin who moonlights occasionally as a kitten. "Breakfast.”

“And a meeting.” He scrunches his face in distaste but it serves only to make him look cuter. “Hey! I wonder if Tony has any empty jam jars!”

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me at seasless.tumblr.com <3


End file.
